Decades [For Shantee Tucker 1988 -2018]
The caress of sun rays on a new dawn, makes your skin tingle like ice popping in a sweating cup of cola sizzling with excitement as anticipation trickles down your throat. You are young. You have the world on your side. You are filled with tomorrows and still concerned with missed chances of yesterday. Yet with each passing year and shift of each decade you learn your voice, you make ‘potential’ a verb – you are always a step ahead. You are still young. A delicate cynicism has you hearing – in each breath taken between lines of ‘Happy Birthday’ – choked uncertainty. Your best friend doesn’t know how to buy you gifts. Gifts are meant to get better with time, but, ah, with each year and recital of wishes hitched on a rising heat of hope, uncertainty becomes an anchor. You do not want to be made fools of. Through seasons tomorrow has become another triggering ‘t’ word. Days become years and years blee...